A Collection of Unfortunate Tales

A Collection of Unfortunate Tales

Leif Smart

Copyright © 2016 by Leif Smart

www.leifsmart.com

Cover Design by Impact Marketing Services (AU/NZ)

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are fictitious and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, places or organizations is entirely coincidental.

To all my friends and family who supported me over the years as I pursued a dream

Author's Note

I never really set out to write a collection of short stories. In fact, I never really set out to write short stories at all. My aim has always been to write longer form fiction, like novels. Epic novels, a thousand pages long, and part of an ongoing series with many sequels.

It was only during my writing course I discovered that short stories were best format to use for the various assignments I had to complete. While they certainly weren’t easier, I actually find them far more difficult, they are short enough to fit within word counts while continuing to be full stories. I found completing a short story to be a far better learning experience than using excerpts from a novel.

As I completed more assignments, the stories began to pile up. It wasn’t long before I started to think about how I could combine them into a collection. I could create a theme and mould all the stories around it. Perhaps setting them all within Melbourne or having games as an underlying theme.

My plan soon went astray since I had chosen a diverse range of subjects in order to stretch my writing styles. While it might have been an interesting challenge to bend my stories to fit the theme while still satisfying each subject’s requirements, it felt more like they were being distorted. I decided to focus on writing each story on its own merits, with any overarching themes to be secondary considerations.

The result is a rather hodgepodge collection of stories, some of which are loosely collected even as they are unrelated to others. ‘Under the Clocks’ and ‘Time to Wager’ are both set in my home city of Melbourne, while ‘Traitor in Camelot’, ‘Flesh Traders’ and ‘Creatiolution’ were inspired by games of various types. ‘Sunflower’ and ‘Noman’s Land’ are relatively independent, though I’ve tried to incorporate recurring motifs in them. Finally, I’ve included a bonus story, ‘The Watch Tower,’ which is completely unrelated to the rest of the collection but best represents the genre I enjoy writing and what you can expect from me in the future.

I hope you enjoy this collection. It ended up broader than I intended but with a little luck, that should mean there’s something in it for everyone.

Time to Wager

A few years ago, while watching a television show involving time travel, I saw a familiar trope: a characters using his knowledge of the future to manipulate the stock market, becoming rich overnight. No doubt many of us have wished we could do that at some point in our lives. Yet, the more I thought about it, the more I realised how unlikely it actually was.

If in fact I was transported back in time I’m not sure I would be able to achieve the same, instant success as is commonly depicted. I have no idea what the latest winning lotto numbers were and barely remember the name of the last Melbourne Cup winner. As for stocks, I might know to buy Apple or Google but they took years, even decades, their reach their present lofty values.

The more I thought about it, the more I began to believe it would take a fair amount of planning and research in order to be successful. I wondered how many of us were actually capable of pulling it off…

Gordon stood at the front of the tram, near the doors. He ignored the people getting on and off who had to squeeze past him to touch on their MYKI cards. What fools they were, when it was so easy to avoid having to pay at all. All you had to do was keep an eye out for the inspectors. They were so easy to spot since they always stood together in their little gangs. All it took was looking up from the sports results on his phone every now and again.

As the tram approached the Arts Centre, he spotted them. Dressed in casuals, trying to appear normal, but clearly part of the same group since they continued chatting to each other even as they spread out to enter every door of the tram at once. As soon as the tram came to a standstill, Gordon jumped off, pushing his way through them as they boarded, ignoring their surly looks. Now he’d have to walk the extra distance, making him even more late. Luckily they wouldn’t start without him, so he just strolled across the bridge, passed Fed Square and on towards St Paul’s.

Gordon entered the stained glass Processional Doors of the old church. As he walked through the cavernous structure, his steps echoed back and forth amongst the gothic columns. Row after row of wooden pews, worn smooth from generations of bums sitting on them, for hours at a time. As he approached the altar, having never been particularly religious, he wasn’t sure if he should kneel or cross himself or something else. He settled for nodding his head and hoped that was enough of a sign of respect.

To the right of the altar, in an area marked ‘choir’, a mini laboratory had been setup. Women and men in white lab coats were pouring over computers and electrical equipment. In the centre of it all, raised up on a platform, was what looked like a large metal coffin.

One of the scientists broke away from the others and approached Gordon. Short, balding, and wearing a pair of wire framed glasses, everything about Dr Brown screamed nerd. Gordon held out his hand but the scientist ignored it. ‘It’s about time you got here. We’ve been waiting.’ He led Gordon through the chaos to the middle of the makeshift lab. ‘At least you’re wearing the appropriate clothing.’

Gordon looked down at the soccer top he’d chucked on before leaving home. ‘Yeah, Dad’s had this Everton top for as long as I can remember. He still goes on about the time he went to the FA Cup final only to see them lose.’ Looking at all the high tech equipment sitting next to the gothic architecture and ancient wooden furniture, he was reminded of a question he’d been meaning to ask. ‘How come this has to be done in a church?’

The doctor stopped walking and gave Gordon a long look. ‘It’s a Cathedral. And the reason why was covered in your briefing last week.’

Gordon thought back to the day long borefest they’d made him sit through. ‘I guess they must have skipped that part.’

Dr Brown continued to stare at Gordon. ‘I was the one who gave the briefing.’ Gordon waited to see if he’d say more before just shrugging his shoulders. ‘Fine. The reason is because old buildings make the best sites for temporal experiments. Structures that haven’t changed in decades, or longer, mean there’s less chance of popping back into something that hasn’t been built yet. Or worse, into something that used to be there. The cathedral is perfect since it’s been here since 1885. We’re also reasonably confident that it will be empty outside of service times. Now, why don’t we go over everything again? Just in case there was something else that was skipped in the briefing.’

Gordon tried to listen carefully, really tried, but when the doctor started going over the technical details again, he found himself drifting off. Even as his thoughts turned to his real plan, he was mindful to nod appropriately as the scientist droned on. He had everything he needed stored on his phone now, and when he was sent back he could put it to good use. Then he’d be set for life.

‘… Undesirable consequences,’ finished Dr Brown, cutting through Gordon’s daydream.

That sounded a little dire. ‘Wait, go back. What do you mean undesirable consequences?’

The doctor sighed. ‘As I just said, yet again, once the experiment starts, it is imperative you do not move. Some of our earlier experiments have resulted in the test animals coming back, well, mangled for want of a better word.’

Gordon mulled that over for a minute. ‘So what are the chances that will happen to me?’

‘We’ve ironed out what we think caused the issue, but just to be safe we need to eliminate any erratic movement when popping in or out of the time stream. That was unavoidable when using test animals unless we sedated them. Unfortunately that adversely affected our test data, so we can’t use that method anymore. But as I’ve been stressing to you, as long as you remain perfectly still, you’ll be fine. It’s particularly important to remember when you’re getting pulled back from whenever you are. Your skin will start to tingle and you’ll hear a high pitched hum. That will give you enough warning to find somewhere quiet and stand still.’

Gordon wasn’t really convinced by the doctor’s assurances but he didn’t think revealing his doubts would go down too well at this stage. Besides, the payoff he was going to get more than outweighed the risks. ‘Right then. I just need to stay still and I’ll be fine. Got it.’

The doctor resumed his briefing, going over the tasks he was wanted Gordon to perform while he was back then. None of it sounded too hard or complicated. Mostly just watch this event or go to that particular place. He just needed to remember as much as could about everything he saw, though he wasn’t to record anything physically. Most importantly though, under no circumstances, was he to interact with anyone. They didn’t think it would matter but at this point they didn’t want to take any chances with altering the time continuum. Finally, when the briefing was finished, the doctor told him to hand over any electrical equipment. It would be placed in a shielded safe until he returned.

Gordon gripped the phone in his pocket, thinking of all the valuable information it contained. ‘How come? Why can’t I keep my phone?’

The doctor let out another exasperated sigh, muttering something about having to use expendable test subjects before addressing Gordon. ‘As was most definitely said in the briefing, not to mention just five minutes ago, even if we didn’t care about contaminating the continuum, any electronics within the temporal field are going to be fried.